Journal of Kane Corr
by Alamak
Summary: Follow an Alliance Marine as he travels the known Galaxy.
1. Log 1

**Mass Effect**

Journal of an Adventure through Space

Kane Corr

Alliance Marine / Black Ops Division

Log: 1

Day One

Earth—HQ—2175

Sergeant Willoughby wanted us to write in our data pads every day. Especially before we left headquarters for our five year expedition. He said something about 'valuing the little things.' I guess that kind of struck a chord with me. And not in that sappy sort of way. Just, in a _real_ kind of way. In a way that makes me appreciate where I am and what I'm about to do. He mentioned something important to my class during our 'graduation' ceremony. I'll never forget it:

_ 'Don't worry about the past…it's just a story we tell ourselves. If you want that story to be uplifting, then write about it. If you want it to be filled with negativity, then write about that. Whatever you do…write it down. You'll thank me later.'_

I took his advice. Not because I felt like obeying my superior. But because I see the value in it. I'm about to travel the Galaxy. It's weird when I put that down on paper…or in writing…or whatever the hell this format is. That's all beside the point. What _matters_ is the fact that everything is about to change.

And the funny thing is, I never used to be okay with change. It just wasn't me. I was comfortable with my life on Earth. Comfortable with the fact that I was going to have a family, a house, a job in the city. That kind of life was normal. It was expected. I had it all going for me.

So, why did I throw it away for _this_?

It's what my parents would ask me every so often.

'_Why risk your life? What's in it for you?_'

I wish I had something clever to say to them. But I didn't. After all of the arguing back and forth, and me trying to impress them, I decided to stay silent. Just let them have their way with me. Let them argue and yell and shake their heads until they decided that they had enough. It was sad. But it was also motivating.

I didn't throw my life away. In fact, I see it as the opposite. My life's just beginning.

We're hitching a ride with the Alteris Freighter. It's a civilian transport. Apparently, Command thinks it best if we fly alongside them to the Sol Relay, then hang back a bit to let them pass through. We'll wait ten minutes, punch in the coordinates, and head off.

We're traveling to the Armstrong Nebula Cluster. Something about a pirate faction and tension that needs to be diffused. Should be interesting. Anyways, I've got to go. Maguire is heckling me a bit.

He says my data pad's light is 'bothering' him.

I told him to fuck off.

Good night.

Kane out…


	2. Log 2

**Mass Effect**

Journal of an Adventure through Space

Kane Corr

Alliance Marine / Black Ops Division

* * *

Log: 2

Day One

Near Jupiter

So, there's been a bit of a problem. Apparently the civilian freighter is experiencing 'technical difficulties.' We were engaged in FTL, when all of a sudden, Alteris dropped out of contact. Luckily, we have the Smith twins piloting our ship. They disengaged from FTL, and then they reestablished communications with the freighters' crew in under half an hour. All is well.

Except Maguire is bugging the _hell _out of me right now.

He asked me all sorts of stupid questions.

'_What if it's the Turians? Could they have turned on us? Could it be like First Contact all over again? How can we stand up to them? Are we prepared for this?'_

I swear to God, if I have to put up with this guy any longer then I'm going to shoot someone. I mean, not really. But I might as well. Who says this kind of stuff? Let me answer that. _No_ _one_. At least, no one who's normal and has a decent head on their shoulders.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only sane guy here. Of course, that's a bit of an exaggeration. There are some really sharp people in our crew. But then there are the handful of people who can't even think straight.

Take Fenix for example. This dude is 6'5"—easily the tallest in our squad. He's an animal. But he constantly thinks about killing things. Like, all the damn time. It's even all he ever _talks_ about. Then there's Rivera—a woman. She's probably the toughest soldier we have. You look at her the wrong way and she'll tear you a new hole.

Then, there are the quiet people. The Smith twins keep to themselves for the most part. Carlson is pretty cool and collected. So is Vasquez. And Diaz. But they can get rowdy when they're together. Then again, so does everyone at some point.

I can go on and on with my analysis of the crew. Really, I can. But it'd probably take me a year to peg everything down. I'd have like ten volumes written if I tried.

When I really think about it though…they're not that bad. In fact, they're the closest thing I have to family now. I bled with these guys. Cried with these guys. And if I'm lucky, then in some twisted kind of way…I'll die with them too.

I just plan on doing _that _some other time—like when I'm old and gray and shitting five times a morning.

Speaking of _time_…it's lights out. We'll be hitting the Relay in a couple of hours.

Goodnight.

Kane out…


	3. Log 3

**Mass Effect**

Journal of an Adventure through Space

Kane Corr

Alliance Marine / Black Ops Division

* * *

Log: 3

Day Two

Armstrong Nebula

Hours have passed since my last entry. Not much has happened. Except for the fact that _Alexa_ wanted to share a bunk with me. I know…she's nice to look at, obviously intelligent, can keep pace with O'Malley when it comes to drinking, and she can kick anyone's ass in hand to hand. But it was out of necessity.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Okay, time for some backstory:

So…Alexa Brent. We just call her 'Lex' because it's catchy. She hates it, but who cares. She's 5'9," with brown hair that flows just below her shoulders, and she has the brightest blue eyes you'd ever seen. Like, I'm talking ocean blue. Vibrant, tropical, beachfront-home blue. I know that's not a color, but hear me out…it's _really_ blue. And she knows it.

I just hope it isn't obvious I like her. I mean, that ship has probably sailed by now. But, well, I like to hold a bit of mystery with women. But this isn't about me. Back to Lex…

She's the kind of girl that'll slowly peel back the layers if she likes you in some form. Whether you're a friend, colleague, squad member, or something more to her…she kind of just… gradually opens up to you. I like that about her. Hell, I like that about people in general. It keeps things interesting.

Last night, after the whole problem with the civilian freighter, some of the crew from the cockpit came back to the bunks to take a power nap. It's really common for people to do. And honestly, we all share bunks. There's no privilege or priority. Especially with our crew. I don't know how other Black Ops squads run things, but we share everything with each other. Well, not everything, but I'm sure you get the picture.

Around 0400, Lex asked me if she could hop in because her usual bunk was taken. I told her sure, and I lifted up my blanket so that she could get under the covers with me. She was little spoon. It was…nice. But I obviously wasn't going to try anything. This isn't high school. And I'm not a prick. Besides, she'd kick my ass, or anyone's for that matter, if we tried to mess around with her.

We laid there for a while. Nothing too crazy happened. Maguire was up playing some kind of vid game on his pad below us. I think it was Galaxy of Fantasy or something. He's into that. Go figure. Across the room was Fenix on the bottom bunk, and Vasquez on the top. Ray (Vasquez) kind of looked over to me at first and winked. He actually goddamn _winked_! If it wasn't obvious enough before, then it definitely was in that moment. Fenix did the very opposite…I think. He just stared at me and her for a solid five seconds, and then he slowly closed his eyes. Creepy as _hell_.

I just…I don't know…it was weird.

Anyways, Ray wanted to make things awkward for me, so he tried talking to Lex. It didn't really work out like he planned. Ray's a _bastard_ in the best possible way. He and I kind of have this little competition going on between us. It doesn't necessarily involve women—it's more along the lines of being the 'best.' The best soldier…best runner…best at lifting…best at talking to women and bedding them afterwards…

You know, typical stuff.

His plan was to talk to Lex from across the room with the intention of attracting her into _his_ bunk, where they could spoon and who knows what else. Bottom line…it wasn't happening. I was gonna make sure of it.

"So what do _you_ think?"

She asked me my opinion on humans joining the Spectres. Ray thought it was a terrible idea. He mentioned something about putting pressure on our race and having to impress a galactic community that collectively hated us. I kind of had to agree, but just for the hell of it, I thought positive.

"I think we should."

I said those words pretty confidently, hoping that she'd answer back with, "I agree," or "Wow, we think alike," or maybe with, "That's why I like you so much, Kane."

But of course, my imagination was getting the best of me.

She simply tilted her head back, just enough for me to see her blue eyes staring off at the wall, and she asked, "Why?"

Good question.

I had no clue.

I thought about it. Had to weigh the good and bad. There was definitely more _bad_ circling within my head, but once I found the good, I had to reach down, grip it tight, and make sense of it.

"Because look at us. We were born to explore. Made for adventure. I don't know much about the other Council races. But I know humans. We fight each other, love each other, can't stand each other…but whatever we do in this galaxy…we should do it together."

The whole room went silent. After saying all of that, it felt like my heart was pounding ferociously. Like eighteen different drums going off on the eve of a tribal ceremony. Shit. It's like I was running for Ambassador and just dropped the greatest speech I'd ever give.

Suddenly, Lex shifted in place. She moved closer, rubbing her backside slightly up against me. It wasn't anything overtly sexual. Just kind of…a little nudge. It was nice, and quite literally brought us closer together. And, to go along with that, she positioned herself so that the top of her head was cupped perfectly beneath my chin. It was kind of awkward for me, because at times I felt like I couldn't even breathe without causing movement. But she was off to sleep fast, so no worries there.

I laid perfectly still next to her—the both of us wrapped in some kind of warm cocoon made of blankets and body heat. It was great. That is, until I started to think about everything that could go wrong.

It's not that I'm irrationally scared about the future. I can deal with shitty circumstances like being stranded on a planet, or running low on heat sinks in the midst of a firefight, or even having to face an overwhelming number of enemy combatants. But what I can't deal with…is losing any one of my squad mates.

That's the kind of loss that never truly goes away.

But here I am getting all dark and shit.

In reality—me laying with Lex in that bunk was perfect. I hope we can do it again sometime. For now, I'm logging off.

I just woke up starving for some breakfast. So…there's _that_ whole situation. I'll try to update after we touch base with HQ.

Stay frosty.

Kane out…


	4. Log 4

**Mass Effect**

Journal of an Adventure through Space

Kane Corr

Alliance Marine / Black Ops Division

* * *

Log: 4

Day Three

Armstrong Nebula Cluster

Shit.

That's really the only word that adequately describes our situation. You see, the 'pirate' faction that we were supposed to investigate was nothing more than a hoax. Apparently, Command had received reports of small scale pirate activity on Antibaar. Now, I don't know much about Antibaar, but Lex kind of briefly mentioned to me how it's a planet that _could_ be terraformed in the future, but most likely won't be. I figure that cost and location come into play.

Regardless, we're now stuck hovering over this worthless planet until we receive new orders. Lieutenant Lance wanted to run a few 'hellfire' drills on the planet's surface, but Tripp (our medic/doctor) advised against it because Antibaar's conditions are dangerous. Everyone was relieved. But LT was pissed off. He swears we're all gonna pay for not picking up on this sooner.

Like it's _our_ damn faults.

Whatever. To hell with all of this. I'm going to sleep until its worth waking up for something.

Goodnight.

Kane out…


	5. Log 5

**Mass Effect**

Journal of an Adventure Through Space

Kane Corr

Alliance Marine / Black Ops Division

* * *

Log: 5

Day Six

Armstrong Nebula

Orbiting Junthor

We found something on Junthor.

After pissing away our time waiting for new orders, we received word from Command about suspicious activity in the Gagarin System. It originated from this planet, so now we're gearing up for a full investigation. I'm currently dressed in my Black Ops gear and have some time to kill, so I figured…why not write a little bit?

The past few days have been boring. Everyone's itching for some action. Fenix is probably the most anxious out of all of us though. He woke up this morning and 'accidentally' tore a few holes in his pillow. He blamed it on some vague form of sleepwalking, but we all knew otherwise. Kind of freaked us out a bit, but he said that if he ever felt the urge to kill, he'd throw himself out the airlock.

That's reassuring, isn't it?

We find out our teams today. Basically, each mission has our crew of twenty split up into four groups of five. The flight crew—including the Smith twins—are in a group themselves, so that leaves fifteen marines total on the ground. Lieutenant Lance likes to mix it up every once in a while. I think that's a good idea. It keeps each person on their toes and it breaks up complacency. That's the last thing Black Ops needs—a bunch of habit ridden, lazy soldiers.

As long as we're doing our best, then we can't go wrong.

I just hope Lex is in my crew. I know…I shouldn't count on it, nor should I necessarily _focus_ on it. But I can't help myself. She's just…I can't even explain it. There are definitely feelings there. I just don't know how to classify them. It's a mixed bag, you know? Part of me wants to pursue something. But then there's the other part of me that wants to throw up that defensive barrier because I think I'll be disappointed.

Can't dwell on that right now, though.

If she ends up being assigned to my group…great. If not, then it's no big deal. I'll probably have a chance to talk to her after the mission. I'm sure I'll come up with something. I mean, she seemed pretty receptive about my opinion on the whole Spectre issue. Maybe she'll agree with me on more. Hopefully Ray will keep to himself this time. That isn't selfish of me to want, is it? I just don't want him screwing things up for me. I know he wants to, because he thinks it's funny. But at the same time, there's no way in hell I'm gonna let him.

LT is motioning for us to gather around the main hub on the ship. He's probably ready to assign the teams. Here's to hoping my wish comes true.

Wow, that sounded corny.

Kane out…


	6. Log 6

**Mass Effect**

Journal of an Adventure through Space

Kane Corr

Alliance Marine / Black Ops Division

* * *

Log: 6

Day Seven

Junthor

Our destination was the equator.

Back on Earth, that meant heading into tropical weather. Here on Junthor, it simply meant nothing. So, where to begin? Let's start with when I last updated this thing. I think it was yesterday. We were waiting to hear about our team assignments.

I was nervous.

When LT called us over, I was probably the last to make it there. I'd blame it on writing in my journal, but honestly, I'd never equate blame with writing.

So, I hustled over and listened as he read the names off his Omni-Tool.

"Vasquez, Carver, Diaz, Rivera, Santos."

Ray turned to Diaz, and in unison they shouted, "The Spic Squad!" Then they went off speaking Spanish to each other.

LT kept reading the names from the list.

"Carlson, O'Malley, Tavish, Gleeson, Tripp."

That left only one possibility…

"Corr, Liberty, Brent, Maguire, and Briggs."

He briefed us on the specifics, and then he ushered us into the hangar bay. From there, we lined up in vertical rows and waited for our drop points. I was at the front of my line. Ray and Carlson were at the front of theirs. We were the squad leaders for this mission.

Eventually, while standing there like a hapless drone in my line, I looked over to Ray. Eerily enough, there he was—smiling and motioning for me to look at what was behind me. Like a fool, I turned around and came face to face with Lex. She was staring ahead. So—me _facing_ her naturally meant that we were now looking into each other's eyes.

Talk about awkward.

"What?" she asked, "Is something wrong?"

I shook my head, "No, just…checking to see if everyone's ready."

(That was obviously a lie)

She nodded and gave the thumbs up sign, "We're all set."

I turned back around and felt like such an idiot. I glanced over at Ray. He had the biggest grin plastered onto his face. I could tell he was laughing because his shoulders were practically bouncing up and down. What a tool. After that, I kept my gaze forward and waited for LT to send us off.

Soon after, the bay doors opened.

A gust of wind came swirling inside the hangar, carrying with it some dirt from the outside world. I heard the familiar sub-tone emanate within my helmet—then a synthesized voice filled my ears.

"_Drop point one…ETA sixty seconds_."

That was for Ray's squad.

LT tuned into the communications channel and barked a couple of orders at us.

"Just a friendly reminder," he said, "Don't do anything stupid. Stay within your means. Calculate, assess, and avoid death. Sound good, _maggots_?"

Everyone responded with a loud, "Hooah!"

I peered into the distance. We had our helmets on, because the atmosphere on Junthor was composed of chlorine and carbon dioxide—not exactly fit for human lungs. Even with my protective visor pulled down, I could see out for miles. Our codex report had labeled Junthor as abundant in aluminum and nickel. As you can imagine, the planet was similar to a wasteland. Stretches of desert and charcoal rock formations could be viewed for miles in every direction.

I don't want to exaggerate when I say that the surface was void of life—because it really was. But the arcologies and megastructures located three clicks north of us were stunning. Unlike anything I had ever seen before. Like monuments built as tributes to a god. Whichever alien species occupied this world before—they certainly took the time to build impressive constructs.

Someone behind me gasped as they saw it too.

"Okay, squad one!" Ray shouted over the sound of the wind.

Our ship was nearly fifteen feet off the ground at this point, which meant we had arrived at the first drop point. Ray motioned forward with an open hand and yelled, "Go, go, go!"

He and the rest of the 'Spic Squad' sprinted onto the ramp, and then they jumped off—landing safely on the rocky ground below. I held onto one of the rails overhead as we started to rise. I could see Ray address his squad right before the ship eventually turned and left their drop point for the next one.

The synthesized voice returned again, "_Drop point two…ETA three minutes_."

That gave us some time to breathe. But the attitude was totally different at this point. I looked to my right and saw Carlson—his eyes directed outside the bay doors. He was in a trance, unable to tear his sight away from Junthor's surface.

"Hey, Kane!" I turned around and saw Maguire tinkering with his Omni-Tool.

"What is it, Maguire?" I asked.

He swiped his hand over some kind of built-in interface and then he shot me a worried look.

"I read somewhere that this place is cursed."

"Cursed?"

"Yeah, an Asari recon team surveyed some of the ruins years ago and found something weird."

Suddenly—and to my surprise—Fenix chimed in.

"There's no such thing as a cursed planet you _idiot_. The Asari found etchings in stone. From what they gathered, it told the story of an alien race that imploded. They lost their minds. Nothing more."

Then, Lex offered her opinion, "It might not be so much a fact as it is a work of fiction. I mean, think about it…how often do _we_ like to draw on walls?"

She made a good point.

(Besides, as it stands—I don't believe in curses anyways)

I turned to face Carlson.

"What do you think?" I asked him, "You afraid of any alien curses?"

He shook his head, "Not afraid of curses. But Thresher Maws on the other hand…"

I stared out the bay doors again. To be honest, I hadn't even _thought_ about Thresher Maws. Those hideous, worm-like monstrosities. They'd tear a Mako apart without even trying.

"Shit Carlson, now you've got me all worked up," I replied.

He laughed, "Sorry."

"_Drop point two…ETA thirty seconds_."

"That was fast," someone called out.

Carlson turned to face the rest of his squad, "Ready up people! Time to explore."

Soon, we swooped in low, hovering over a plateau that was nestled just outside the dead city. I could see from here that we were _much_ closer to the towering skyscrapers and structures. But we were still far from all the action.

And by action, I mean _towering skyscrapers _and _structures_.

Like I said before—this place was empty.

"Go, go, go!" Carlson waved forward, commanding his team to take the plunge.

Right before we departed from the second drop point, I heard a 'ping' go off in my helmet. It was an alert message.

A three-tone alert followed.

That meant something was wrong.

"_Alert…storm warning. Stage four. Seek shelter."_

I heard someone laugh behind me. It might have been Briggs. He's a fairly quiet guy—but every once in a while he gets vocal.

"What a load of shit…" he said.

I shook my head, "Better safe than sorry."

_"Drop point three…ETA two minutes."_

"Ah, looks like the Smith twins are speeding things along!" Fenix shouted, "It's about time!"

I gripped the rail tighter and focused ahead. The ground became a blur of dull colors. The sound of the ships engine roared above the wind. Everything was moving so quickly—I hardly had time to process it all.

Suddenly, the ship lurched forward, causing some of us to stumble unexpectedly in the bay.

'Minor turbulence,' one of the Smith twins claimed. I think it was Jaden. He had a hint of mockery lining his tone.

"Asshole!" Maguire said, to no one in particular, "How about you warn us next time!"

The following minute was spent in silence until we made it to the next drop point. Once we exited the ship, I turned to look back and watched as it sped off. Then, I performed the routine diagnostics procedure.

Status—check.

Rundown of mission parameters—check.

Questions and concerns—check.

After that was done, we were good to go.

I peered into the horizon—my eyes met the ruins of what was once a great city. We were closer than the other two groups, though we were also much farther away from them, having been dropped off in the northernmost sector.

I took a deep breath, and then marched confidently toward our intended target.

We needed to be in and out before the storm hit.

A two hour trek would land us in what I called the 'downtown' area. And let me tell you something…this place gave 'ruins' a whole other meaning. I don't know how to explain this without sounding like a lunatic, but it looked like it was demolished ten times over—having suffered from what appeared to be earthquakes, mudslides, hurricane's—and whatever else nature was capable of. Our codex said that Junthor was barren for over a million years—yet these ruins and the destruction that resulted said otherwise.

We set up camp within an abandoned skyscraper. Once inside, we installed a local sat-com and hooked up a real-time surveillance kit. Our long range scanners back on the ship indicated some activity within the vicinity of the northern city—but on the surface, there wasn't much happening. It could have been another false alarm. Eventually, we picked up a faint source of movement.

There was only one problem…it came from below.

Which meant we had some digging to do.

I'm not gonna get into it right now, because I'm really tired and need to get some sleep. But what I _can_ say is that I'm writing this about a click underneath the surface. Unfortunately, we had to retreat to the skyscrapers' sub level because of the storm. It swept through the area much faster than anticipated. LT contacted each team and told us to hunker down for at least twenty-four hours.

It sucks, but I'm not complaining.

Okay, time for some shut-eye. I'll update this when I wake up. Because a lot has happened since we got here.

Sleep tight.

Kane out…


End file.
